


Sheith Tumblr Shorts and Drabbles

by MarcellaEReeves



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Hand Kink, M/M, Rating may go up, Tattoo, more tags to be added later, pre-kerb, the rating did go up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-02-08 08:25:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12860655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarcellaEReeves/pseuds/MarcellaEReeves
Summary: A collection of shorts and drabbles I've written over on tumblr, probably all sheith, and probably all un-beta'd.Chapter 1: Pre-KerbStargazingChapter 2: Shiro's handsChapter 3: Shiro's fingers (E)Chapter 4: Shiro gets a tattoo





	1. Stargazing

**Author's Note:**

> I commissioned [Rembihnutuur](https://rembihnutuur.tumblr.com/) on tumblr [this beautiful art](https://rembihnutuur.tumblr.com/post/167461607742/commission-for-marcellaereeves-had-a-lot-of-fun) and it was so inspiring I wrote this.

‘It’s getting cold,’ we should head back.  
  
But Shiro couldn’t find it in himself to finish. Not when the moment was so fragile.  
  
Above them the world fell away, vast in unquantifiable limitless. They should be holding him again, as they did every time he could look. But for once, he’d found someone who was just as captivated as he was. Wherever Keith had come from, his fire had enraptured Shiro with such a dangerous ferocity, he was certain the stars themselves had crafted him.  
  
He could find no other reason for his fixation. Or perhaps he was just hoping there was no other reason. That when he’d spent so much his life staring up at the stars, anything that could tear his gaze away from them had to be made of their same cosmic dust.  
  
‘It is.’  
  
The ground below his fingertips mirrored the statement, loose sand over compacted earth starting to chill as he toyed with it. A distraction, perhaps. Perhaps he shouldn’t be sitting out in the desert in his uniform, after curfew, encouraging a cadet to break protocol too. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care - not when Keith, who tried to close himself away so often, was looking up at the stars with such open curiosity. No, they’d go back when Keith wanted to return. When Keith said it was too cold, time to go back. Sneak in.  
  
Though it didn’t detract from the facts. It was cold, too cold to be out in a simple cadet’s uniform. Even in the dark, he could see Keith’s jaw tremble, the death grip he held his hands in, knees drawn close to stave off as much of the evening chill as possible.  
  
Not when unbuttoning his own uniform was such a simple solution. The movement attracted Keith’s attention, eyes widening and breathing turning shallow as he undressed, probably assuming he was going to leave. ‘Is this okay?’ Shiro asked as he was making to drape it over Keith’s shoulders. A nod was his reply, jacket pulled closer as Keith refused to look at him.  
  
‘Won’t you get cold?’ From the tone of his voice, a barrier was up again, and he’d deal with it in the same way he did every other time it happened. By waiting.  
  
Though the chill did sting his skin, it didn’t matter. He’d faced worse before, no doubt he’d face worse again. All that mattered was spending this moment together. ‘I’ll be fine, we can stay out here until you want to go back.’  
  
There was a pause, before Keith pulled his jacket tighter, hiding in it from the nose down, and for the third time that night Shiro found himself forcing his gaze back to the stars.  
  
No, there was no other explanation for Keith’s magnetism over him except for him being made of stardust and fire.  
  
None.


	2. Shiro's hands for Lasersheith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was prompted "Shiro’s haaaaandsssss" by [Lasersheith](https://lasersheith.tumblr.com/) over on tumblr. I wanted to make this sth porny but it's just not *huffs* stupid sappy space boyfriends.

Shiro’s hands.   
  
Keith loved them, from the way they were more squared in their thickness than tapered like his own, how he could place their palms together and still see the pads of Shiro’s fingers after his own fingertips had ended, how the cuticles of his thumbs became bitten and dried during periods of stress.   
  
He loved them on his shoulders, squeezing gently before parting, comforting. Grounding him when he couldn’t find focus on his own. How they mussed through his hair during late night study sessions to reassure him.   
  
After Kerberos, one of his hands made it home, the other… changed. Like so much of Shiro had. No longer for sweet caresses or gentle late night touches. His hands were weapons before, but it hadn’t been so obvious. More obvious to Shiro, hesitant to touch after he’d remembered how to use it. No place for bitten cuticles, no cuticles to bite.   
  
But Keith started slowly. Where Shiro caught himself in the middle of habit, and instead trying to force himself into left-handedness, Keith took them both between his own, palm to palm, the same difference. Still bigger than Keith’s own.   
  
In frightened grey eyes held an unspoken statement, a fear, but he answered.   
  
‘You’re going to take them down with this.’   
  
He could feel the same fear. Why did the Galra give anyone a weapon? Two mistakes. He slipped his palm so their fingers laced together, his own determination mirrored in Shiro’s own.   
  
‘Together.’  
  
Keith tightened his grip and replied, ‘together.’

And so together they forged forward, carving their way through. Coming together, though he’d found the new hand… intimidating at first. His imagination conjuring what he was sure was only a fraction of the horrors Shiro had faced, and he was glad he couldn’t remember. When Shiro stared at the ceiling at night haunted but trying to remember Keith would slip his own hand between them, fingers entwining.  _Please forget_ , he’d ask the universe.  _Please never remember_ , he pleaded. The universe owed Shiro that silence, at least.   
  
But over time, the touches returned, skin on skin, flesh against metal. Shiro became tolerant touching him without a protective barrier of fabric. And then he became comfortable. The gentle tussle of hair returned, the squeezing of shoulders. But they’d both become desperate.  Being torn away from each other so many times had impressed the fragility of their relationship upon them. Upon Keith. How much longer would he be able to reach out and find Shiro in reaching distance? His best friend, his brother in arms, his guiding light.   
  
Would he be able to piece himself together once more if they’d become even closer before being torn apart again?  
  
But those hands made the decision for him. They made the decision easy, lingering, trailing down his spine, holding him. They pulled him in, worked as one to unravel his frayed edges and they’d built him into a new whole. They’d wiped bruises from his shell and knitted his wounds back together, never once minding that the blood that stained them now was also responsible for how they no longer matched.   
  
‘You’re going to take them down with this.’ murmured against his spine, powerful thumbs kneading away his aches.   
  
He choked on a sob, the Thing he’d been carrying finally uncurling from inside his chest and allowing him to breathe. ‘Together’ He’d almost asked, just to be sure.  
  
‘Together’ came the reply.


	3. Shiros... hand for Lasersheith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of "Haaands"

It had taken months to work him up to this, to finally convince Shiro that he needed the “help”. Cool metal cradled his neck, tilting his head back a little with a thumb under the shell of his ear. The other?   
  
Well…

The other was teaching him how to breathe around a throat full of human flesh.

‘Through your nose Keith’

It was difficult, having your throat fucked by two very long fingers, fingers that knew what they were doing to him. No sooner had he started controlling his impulse to gag from one action they started performing in a different way. If he were a stronger man he’d have asked to stop to keep his throat from turning painful, but he liked how the edge felt.

To prove that he could manage, he pressed the muscle of his tongue against the two fingers, splitting them to lightly flick at sensitive webbing. It almost worked too, if not for the knock of knuckles against his teeth.

‘I shouldn’t be able to feel your teeth, sweetheart’

If he opened his eyes he’d be able to meet Shiro’s own without height difference, sitting on Shiro’s lap and feeling his hardness pressing close. So close… he tucked his lips over his teeth and received a murmured praise as a reward, a small thrust for swallowing against the intrusion.

‘No touching, remember?’

He returned his hand to his thighs, rubbing his palm there lightly. It had taken months to work Shiro up to this, not because of any concern for his safety or wellbeing because Shiro would never hurt him. But because Shiro wanted him to truly earn the right. He wasn’t going to blow it by breaking the rules.

Before long those talented fingers were removed, a trail of spittle snapping against his chin and leaving his lips flushed and glossy.

‘You look beautiful like this baby’

He was sure he painted a picture, one he wouldn’t want anyone outside of their room to see, but a picture worth more than a thousand words when it made Shiro look at him like he’d painted the night sky with diamonds. His heart missed a beat at that expression.

‘That’s enough education for today,’

His heart missed a few more as that expression turned so painfully sinful it made his gut physically clench.

‘Turn around, Keith.’


	4. Tattoo artist Keith

It had started like any other day. He opened up at 11, playlist on, checked their bookings - Hunk had a booking at 2 so he’d be in a little before then - Keith was only in so early because he wanted to do the accounting and stock ordering.

Just as he was starting to check how much of each ink they had left the bell over the door rang, and Keith stood up from where he was crouching in the ink cupboard to see a hulking great Adonis of a man looking around with the kind of quiet nervous energy Keith only saw on people who’d never been inside a tattoo parlour.

And then he turned around, and Keith was treated to the sight of bleached white forelock and steel grey eyes that somehow managed to be frightening and welcoming all at once.

‘Hi, I’ve come to get a tattoo’

Keith wanted to be murdered by that voice, it was certainly trying to murder him, and a small noise somewhere between a whimper and a moan tangled in his own throat. Some higher power seemed to take mercy on him because instead of dropping to his knees with an open mouth he said:

‘Well you’ve come to the right place then, I’m Keith, what were you thinking about’ and gestured towards the seating area where his sketch pad waited.

‘I’m Shiro. So basically…’

He wanted something that looked like torn flesh revealing robotics, the kind of tattoo that had been popular since Terminator was released. Something to commemorate his retirement from the military where he’d been called a robeast for his resilience in combat. And that’s not to say Keith couldn’t do torn flesh just… those kinds of tattoos were small, and kind of overdone at this point and Keith would be lying if he said his fingers didn’t itch to paint every inch of Shiro in ink.

He’d been right - Shiro was a tattoo virgin. It somehow made him hotter.

So he convinced Shiro to go bigger, to agree to something that covered almost his whole arm and hand.

‘It will look like a cybernetic prosthetic, be more obvious that you’re half man half machine. And it will be really neat.’

Shiro had laughed, but when Keith had shown him googled photos of the things other people had gotten, a spark seemed to light in his eyes. After that, it was a case of filling out paperwork for allergies and medical history, drawing up a few sketches until Shiro picked one of the plated looking futuristic designs and booking him in. Hunk was arriving just as Shiro left, and Keith was left wondering where the past two and a half hours had been. Shiro was just easy conversation.

When his appointment came around Keith was practically buzzing, more than ready to get his hands on those muscles and flesh, and to top it off working on an amazing design that wasn’t just flowers or skulls, or matching name tattoos? (Or matching name coverups with flowers or skulls, sometimes both.) It only increased the anticipation.

He lead Shiro to his workspace (lair, the thirsty part of his brain provided) and down into the chair. It was almost unfair that Shiro had to be shirtless, Keith’s inking reputation was on the line, Shiro could be a sabotage tactic from the competition with abs like that. With pecs like that too.

Keith stared a second longer than polite - he was admiring the craftsmanship, nothing wrong with that.

He also developed new kinks in both shaving and sterilising an arm, which was interesting to put it politely. Transferring patterns onto arms was always fun, Shiro’s pattern had been split into multiple parts, and the job of today was to ink the line work.

No telling how a new client would sit until they sat, but Shiro sat like a dream. He was so still at one point Keith thought he’d fallen to sleep, only to find him skimming through his phone. Keith daren’t make idle chit-chat because he’d lose himself in Shiro’s voice and ruin his lines.

But then they were done and hours had passed, Keith wanted to work on him forever if his back and neck wouldn’t keep complaining. It was probably better this way, the angles he was working in put his head dangerously close to the top of Shiro’s thighs. He was sure lusting over a client was illegal anyway. It felt like it should be, at least.

The colouring came next, and Keith determined to make the most realistic fake robot arm he could. The entire time Shiro sat they barely spoke more than twenty words, but it really was for the best. Somehow he had to wrap Shiro’s hand and that was a difficult thing, but he managed.

By the time he was happy there had been four gruelling sessions - for both of them. Shiro had to endure being stabbed with a needle repeatedly and Keith had to be near him.

‘I threw in some purple UV ink too on the plates, so under UV it should light up’

Actually, he’d been looking for an excuse to try it and Shiro’s arm seemed like the perfect excuse. The sounds he made on finding out made it especially worth it, made Keith consider not charging him for it, but only for a little bit.

‘Keith this is so cool, thank you’ He accepted the one-armed hug too, pulling back to admire Shiro’s look of amazement. ‘So uh… now that I’m not your client anymore… can I take you out sometime?’

Conveniently he’d already written his personal number on a card with the words “call me” written above. Very conveniently - almost like he’d been about to give it to Shiro anyway.

‘Sure. I finish late but I’m free most Sundays Mondays and Tuesdays.’ He smirked a little as he handed over his card and Shiro had to rethink going to take it with his right hand. The scanning phase wouldn’t make Shiro any grosser somehow, but Keith wanted to see how he looked when the redness went down and it healed. He couldn’t wait to see how Shiro looked wearing nothing but the tattoo, too.

Hopefully, Shiro wouldn’t make him wait too long to find out.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [MarcellaEReeves](https://marcellaereeves.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr and if you liked this please consider leaving a comment!
> 
> Also come and talk to me if you do have a tumblr I love talking to people and will do it for four (4) hours if you want to.


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